"I do believe, Miss Morne," said she, "that you are one of the fortunate
people who have the power to enjoy this to the full. I trust that we may
often still enjoy it here together."
"Shall I tell you how I enjoy it, ma'am?" I exclaimed, carried out of
myself at sight of the enthusiasm that was tinging her delicate cheek
and lighting up her eyes. "As we enjoy those things that it never comes
into our heads to ask ourselves whether we like or not. Some things we
_have_ to ask ourselves, whether we like or not, before we know, and
even after we are scarcely sure; and some things, such as the poor
little 'Marchioness's' orange-peel and water, we have to 'make believe
very hard' in order to like at all. But home when we have been away, and
friends when we have been lonely, and water when we are thirsty, and the
sea always!--we never ask ourselves if those are good,--we know." Then
my face burnt. How it would burn in those girlish days!
And how foolish I felt, or had begun to feel, when Miss Dudley slowly
answered, looking mercifully away from me and at the waves: "Very true,
Miss Morne! You speak from your heart, and to mine."
The clouds were forbearing, and allowed us time afterwards for a visit
to the gorgeous garden.
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